Study in Contradiction
by CardboardSea
Summary: S3 E3 Murder and Mozzarella (minor spoilers?) Set after Concetta's proposal but before they kiss. This is how I imagine some of the in between scenes unfolding with no personal claim to the story itself.
1. Chapter 1

S3 E3: Murder and Mozzarella (minor spoilers?)

Set after Concetta's proposal but before they kiss. This is how I imagine some of the in between scenes unfolding, with no personal claim to the story itself.

* * *

The bedside alarm clock rang out before sun up, eliciting a quiet grown from Jack Robinson. He brusquely threw back the corner of his covers and swung his feet to the floor, landing them there with a loud thud. He felt like a study in contradictions at this moment. Dinner last night was wonderful, and left him feeling buoyant. However, the late hour he stayed out until, and the many conflicting thoughts running through his tired head now made him feel foggy and heavy.

With his elbows on his knees, Jack lowered his face to his palms and breathed deeply. A quick swipe of his hands brought his laced fingers to his lips as he scowled, not so much at the floor but more at the idea that sleep did not in fact bring more him more clarity. Still, he could not stifle a quick chuckle that effectively banished the heaviness he was feeling and brought a smile to his face. How had he, a quiet and disciplined officer of the law, become the object of affection of a woman with ties to the Camorra?

Concetta had all but proposed marriage to him before dinner last night. He recalled the image of her smiling after she laid out her thoughts to him and denounced her family; she looked lovely. She cared immensely for him, and he was not used to being treated with as much love as she was careful to convey. His smile faded; however, when he recalled the way she was acutely aware of her grandfather's opinion of herself. Jack knew what it was like to be viewed as less than you are, but to be viewed as not only an object to barter with, but an animal? If this was the way her own family saw her, then how did she ever become such a strong and compassionate woman? For as much love as she poured out, she deserved to receive some in return.

The detective went mindlessly about his morning, repeating all of the familiar tasks of preparing himself for the day while he allowed himself to reminisce about the lovely evening they had together. The only alteration to his daily routine was the smile now gracing his face. Jack realized this departure as he was making his side of the bed, and it caused him to take pause. Jack had adopted this chore early on in his marriage to Rosie out of necessity, but it had been many years since he had to wipe away a head indention from the neighboring pillow. It had been many years since he had any sort of domestic companionship. He wasn't the sort of person who needed other people in order to feel alive. In fact, he enjoyed quiet time reserved only for himself. During his marriage (after he lost his right to privacy) he accomplished this by reading in the evenings. In those moments, Rosie usually took his cue and settled into a companionable silence in the chair next to him to knit, read, or mend his clothes. Eventually, he got used to constantly having someone around.

Things were different now. Now, he walked into an empty house when he returned home from work, and it was an emptiness so tangible that it followed him around his home like a pet. When he prepared himself dinner, it wound itself around his legs demanding to be noticed, and when he sat to read, it laid on his feet, making it hard for him to concentrate on his book. He avoided his home as much as he could these days because he missed sharing it with another person, even if it was just to know someone else was there.

"This," he thought while closing his door and locked the emptiness in behind it, "is what I want to be rid of."

...

Jack had been acquainted with Concetta for quite a while. He had previously surmised that her husband was a difficult man, but he had never before spoken with Concetta about her family life in such a personal way; he dared not push for any information that could be related to the case and essentially shatter the delicate magic of the evening. Jack recalled the way Concetta's radiant brown eyes intimately locked onto his when they spoke, and he relished her loving attentions. Through her compassion and soft words, he could tell that she was a woman endowed with the type of wisdom that only comes through experience. No doubt she had struggled through a loveless marriage while her husband was alive. Jack knew first hand about loveless marriages. He knew that even in such a marriage, a dedicated spouse would do whatever they could to create a happy home, and he wondered how that manifested itself in Concetta's life.

The inspector struggled to use the time during his drive to the station to focus on the day before him and the clues that had come to light; however, his mind was always pulled to Concetta's proposal whenever considering the Strano family. Slowly, his feelings towards the Strano patriarch were becoming biased, so he halfheartedly admonished himself for allowing himself get involved with the woman and possibly compromising his judgment during the investigation. But, he reasoned that he was not yet on duty. Hopefully he would be able to pull himself together before he reached the station.

...

It was an unusual experience for Jack to try and avoid Miss Fisher's residence, but as it was, she had (of course) attained sensitive material regarding the case. He felt his headache from the morning begin to pound, and he dreaded walking into whatever gloating Miss Fisher wished to lather on him. Gripping the steering wheel, he momentarily squeezed his eyes shut in a futile attempt to subdue his headache.

He knew that Phryne could be unruly and at times difficult, but last night showed him that he deserved more than the baseless flirtation and heartache that Miss Fisher seemed so keen to inflict upon him lately. Jack scoffed as he remembered how they eventually came to an amicable understanding of their relationship after the situation at the RAAF, but he was still feeling very bruised and a little sheepish about the whole incident. After that day, it was clear to him that Phryne saw him as just a friend with whom she enjoyed an occasional flirt, regardless of whether or not he had wanted more from their relationship. In the end, he was altogether fed up with playing Miss Fisher's games.

...

Jack never presumed to guess what Miss Fisher was thinking at any one moment; he was sure that his guess would almost always be wrong. However, he did consider himself an observant man and had noticed her acting strangely during this case. On a few instances he even certainly (he thought) witnessed a bit of jealousy bubbling over her usually charming demeanor. And moreover, he got the impression that Phryne was even trying to make up for the many times she had toyed with him. What a bother all of this was turning out to be. He reasoned that more than likely, Miss Fisher saw that she was falling out of his good graces, and she didn't want to lose the benefits that a close friendship with a police officer afforded her detective work.

...

From the moment Constable Collins had telephoned him about this case, Jack knew he was in for a trying couple of days. Sitting at his desk staring at the box of evidence Miss Fisher had handed over earlier in the day without one word of protest or special request, Jack had never been so confused or utterly unsure of the evidence before him.

His case was all tied up well, but his personal life seemed incomprehensible. Phryne had stood by his side once again, a paragon of confidence and undoubtedly the most dedicated partner he had as of yet in his career. He knew the Camorra would not scare her off the case, but he could not believe she would put herself in the position to be face to face with the padrino, and hold him at gunpoint no less. He leaned back in his chair and mindlessly tapped his pen on his desk. After Salvatore was handcuffed and put in the police car, she stood idly by without any word of objection or encouragement while he made plans to visit Concetta at the restaurant that night. She could have driven away. They drove separately, so there was nothing keeping her at the crime scene. He pulled the box forward and shot a glance inside while he mulled over his thoughts. At first, he thought that maybe she had something she wanted to say to him before she left, but all she offered was a weak goodbye before turning on her heels and walking to her car. He had noticed the extra sway she put into her hips when she went; heck, every male eye in the area had.

He thumbed through Nona Louisa's account book that Phryne had inspected earlier in the day. Perhaps she had intended to tease him about his relationship with Concetta and thought better of it. Jack tossed the small book back into the box and looked at the clock. He reminded himself that it was better not to try to imagine what Phryne might be thinking at any one moment, and he stood to ready himself for his date.


	2. Chapter 2

Breakfast was uncharacteristically quiet that morning. Mr. Butler noticed Miss Fisher's heavy gait as she trod down the stairs, and after a few attempts to pull the woman from her reflections, decided that she was clearly wading through important thoughts and simply needed time to think.

Strong women were easy to find when you knew where to look, Phryne believed. In fact, she had yet to meet a woman who she considered weak...traditional, perhaps but not weak. Phryne never aspired to be traditional like Concetta. She preferred her life now, living in a house filled with friends and entertaining the occasional lover, regardless of how long they stayed. She wondered how traditional Concetta was; did she also enjoy the company of an occasional lover? Regardless, every woman had the right to choose how they wanted to live their life, and some women preferred to live traditionally; far be it from her to judge.

Mr. Butler watched her contemplate what he knew to be more than just her toast. She was entranced.

What Phryne hated was that traditional women were more often than not subjugated by the men around them. Her heart softened when interacting with such women, but she knew that the sick feeling in her stomach not completely philanthropic. Though she never allowed her mind to dwell on it, her body always rebelled and flashed memories of Dubois. Men could be animals, and too many times women suffered because of a weak man's inadequacies. She felt heavy, and tried to distract herself.

When prying into Concetta's life in order to form an opinion of the woman, Phryne could not justify the poor opinion she had hoped for. The woman was lovely. She clearly had a difficult past, and considering the company she lived with, her future did not seem much brighter. She wanted to take the woman under her wing, to give her a place where she could feel free to express herself. No doubt the woman that would emerge would far eclipse any saint in kindness and compassion. Jack must be helpless around such a beautiful woman. Even she felt a sense of duty to ensure the woman's happiness, and she knew that Jack lived to be dutiful.

She could tell that Jack enjoyed lording his relationship with Concetta over her, though she could not imagine why. He was an attractive man with many admirable qualities. She imagined many women held Jack in high esteem. However, her reactions to their relationship only seemed to spur him on, and for the first time, she did not feel up to playful banter.

"Coffee, Miss?" Miss Fisher had pulled herself out of some very trying times, but she never allowed herself to wallow. Mr. Butler hated the idea that she might regret missing out on a beautiful morning. Perhaps caffeine was the answer.

She nodded with an aloof smile. Perhaps caffeine was the answer.

Tenaciously, she took a large bite of toast and enjoyed the way that the loud crunching sound asserted her presence into the dining room. She may feel heavy and uncertain about how the day would turn out, but at least she could choose to step out confidently. After all, she had a full day ahead of her, starting with a morning meeting with Jack regarding evidence she had acquired after Nona Louisa's funeral.

Mr. Butler knew that the coffee had little to do with the vivacity that returned to Miss Fisher's eyes, but he smiled to see her decide to resolutely face the day.

...

The last few days had been more troublesome than Phryne expected. She and Jack were getting along alright with the case, but it was becoming more and more difficult to eliciting any sort of smile or witty remark from him. In fact, he had become decidedly more abrupt and distant, and it agitated her. Now as they sat, their meeting provided Phryne with no relief. Why was Jack being so testy? She was sure further inquiry about the company he kept last night would bring interesting details to light, but she got the impression that she might prefer to be left in the dark.

Phryne wished she could snap herself out of whatever apprehensive nonsense consumed her, but she could not will herself out of the feeling. Jack was a good man, deserving of whatever happiness he chose, but he was clearly being reckless. How could her friend imagine that a relationship with a woman who had ties to the Camorra was a viable option? She knew that his nature would demand a committed relationship, but (as he often mentioned) his career required a certain level of public decorum. How could he expect to maintain a clean public image while tied to that family? Phryne's breath caught as she recalled Rosie's opinion of her own bad influence on Jack. At the time, Rosie presented herself as a jealous and scorned ex-lover.

"Is everything okay, Miss Fisher?" Jack inquired coldly.

"Quite alright, Jack." She had hoped to sound confident, but instead felt she came off sounding a bit tired.

Jack scoffed. He clearly viewed her fatigue as further evidence that she was not alone and in bed early last night, and the emotional fatigue the man was causing her only exhausted her more. All in all, Phryne's nerves were becoming frayed. They had teased each other many times in the past, so why was their banter so vexing this morning? Perhaps her mischievous way of dealing with Jack's propriety was becoming too much for him.

...

Phryne leaned against her Hispano Suiza out of necessity. Her body felt drained of energy despite the adrenaline that had coursed through her just a short while ago. Jack had again put himself in a precarious situation, confronting the padrino alone and unarmed. Honestly, she had no idea why the man scolded her about unnecessary risk.

She gave them space, though she wanted to interrupt, and she wondered if Jack was aware of her presence lingering behind him. She felt uncomfortable and out of place, but she could not make herself turn and drive away. She watched as Jack reached for Concetta's hand and saw the woman's face brighten with a smile. Why couldn't she make herself move? Jack shifted his weight and turned his back squarely towards her. She quickly looked away, staring as rocks on the ground and the dull shine of police tires, anywhere but towards the couple. But then he leaned in towards Concetta and lingered as he kissed her cheek. She tried not to imagine the quiet words he spoke as his breath played on her cheek.

Phryne reminded herself that they both deserve to be happy, and clearly they found happiness in each other. She felt short of breath; clearly Jack desired a traditional lifestyle. She watched Concetta turn and walk away from Jack, trailing her arm behind her as she held his hand as long as possible. She was a woman in love. Suddenly Phryne panicked. Jack turned immediately towards her, and she knew he wanted to know why she was still there. She hoped an explanation would come as she opened her mouth to speak, but there was nothing. Instead, she offered a feeble smile and a goodbye. She praised her legs as they decided to finally let her turn and drive away.


	3. Chapter 3

Twilight accompanied Jack on his short drive, and now it poured itself through the windows of his home. The dwindling light reminded him that he had expected his evening with Concetta to last much longer, and now he stood with his back to the door closed behind him looking into his empty house. Concetta was everything he considered good. She offered a stable, loving relationship; she would take care of him and love him. She made him smile and feel important. She was a good woman. He slumped against the door frame. What had he become if he could not return the affections of a good woman?

Why did she have to say what she said? That his heart was taken? He had tried so hard to let Phryne make her intentions known to him, even after she flirted with suspects, even after she had taken another man to bed and lied to him about it. Why had Concetta poured salt on that wound? But then there she was, taunting him after his arrest. Why hadn't she driven off once the suspect was in police custody, and why did he allow himself to be so acutely aware of her presence?

He deposited his coat and hat on the rack by the door; his mind still reeled, and the quiet house only amplified his unease. He knew that he was not home for the night but was unsure of where he would go.

He knew he wouldn't be able to sit still through the pictures. The beach was too vast and empty. Perhaps he could wander through Luna Park. Usually he would go partake in a nightcap. Jack scoffed. With or without Miss Fisher, he deserved a drink. Opening the cupboard, he looked at a bottle of wine but moved it aside to reach the whiskey bottle in the back. He filled a glass and took a swig, especially enjoying the burn of it. This case had almost been too much for him, and though he tried not to concern himself with Miss Luppiacci's fate, her sad story kept replaying itself in his mind. Miss Fisher's post case nightcaps usually held the key to calming him down. Apparently the drink in his hand didn't posses the same magic.

He walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. Like it or not, the lady detective had embedded herself into his life, and he had become accustomed to having her there. If he was bold enough to be honest, he enjoyed her being around. Well...he enjoyed her wit, her insight, and her kindness. At times she was a wonderful woman, a beautiful woman. He wondered if the whiskey had gotten to his head when he felt momentarily felt himself go fuzzy. His eyes closed as his mind betrayed him and flashed to her on a stage, feathers being raised in the air, and Phryne...No. He could not let his thoughts become carnal. Not now when everything was already so confusing. Holding onto the corners of the sink, he willed his breathing to return to normal.

Too easily he was falling back into his desire for that tornado of a woman. His mouth twitched into a smile. Not that he would ever let her know it, but he did enjoy seeing that flashy car pull up to his crime scenes. He enjoyed her energy and her insight. Jack stood up. He enjoyed who he became when he was around her. He knew he had treated Phryne quite poorly over the last few days, and he hoped he had not irreparably damaged their friendship, scowling at the thought. Had he resigned himself to being satisfied with friendship?

"Damn." He turned, "Damn it all." He added, "And Heaven help me."

He hurried to the kitchen and reached for the bottle of wine, grabbing his things as he tore out of the house.

...

The drive proved to be long enough to temper his resolve, and even though it made him feel juvenile, he parked his car outside Wardlow and tried to rebuild his courage. The song he heard wafting from the open parlor window did not make his task easy. The Italian brought his mind back to the case, and to Concetta. Surely he had abused himself enough for one night.

As though sensing his thoughts, the song graciously came to and end. Perhaps he was not ready for this visit. Perhaps he should just go. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the distinctive sound of a needle being lifted and replaced. Curiously, Jack listened. The bravado of the song rang out again. Intrigued by the peculiarity, Jack turned his attentions to the words. "La Donna e Mobile..." He did not speak Italian, but he took a guess at what the words meant. Piuma al vento, misero, non liba amor: the words were close enough to either English or French for Jack to surmise the general meaning of the song and why it was being replayed in Miss Fisher's parlor.

...

Dot sat in the kitchen, putting away the evening's uneaten food and exchanging worried glances with Mr. Butler whenever the song came back on. It had been replayed too many times for her liking; in fact, Dot was sure she knew the foreign words by heart by now.

"Was that the door, Mr. Butler?"

"Let us hope so, Dorothy."

Mr. Butler's smiled as he opened the door. It was as he had hoped. Mr. Robinson stood on the front step, holding a bottle of wine no less.

"Hello, Mr. Butler, is Miss Fisher in?" Mr. Butler had seen many expressions on the Inspector's face over the last year. At this moment, he was glad to see how confident the man looked. It was the only thing he believed could put the mistress of the house at ease tonight.

"Right this way, Sir. Miss Fisher is in the parlor."

With a few steps, he lead Jack to the parlor doors.

"The inspector to see you, Miss." At that, he stepped aside and returned to the kitchen to relieve Miss Williams of any kitchen duties. Mr. Butler sensed that the pair had a lot to work out between them, and whatever form that took, he knew they would need as much privacy as possible.

...

Phryne felt her spirit lift and her stomach drop when Jack stepped into her parlor. She hadn't heard anyone at the door. Her eyes grazed over the bottle of wine in his hands. Given the warmth between Concetta and Jack, her parlor was the last place she expected him to be tonight. Had she been in his position, offered the loving arms of a man with whom she had history, Phryne knew things would have gone differently, and the thought was almost painful. Perhaps she had misjudged the situation, or perhaps Jack was a far more perceptive man than she had even realized.

"Not eating Italian tonight, Jack?" In the last few days she had learned never to make assumptions in regard to Jack Robinson.

"Strano's is closed."

She tentatively delighted at his answer and at the small twitches his mouth made. She often watched him do that when he was feeling playful. Still, she was nervous to know what caused this change in demeanor.

Feeling apprehensive, she decided to test the waters, "Looks like you'll have to make due with me."

"Looks like we'll have to make due with each other." Tonight his smirk bothered her all the way down to her toes. The man she had grown to depend on was in her parlor again, smiling at her in a way that turned her angst to giddiness. She watched him place the bottle on the coffee table, and turned to smile at Mr. Butler as he brought in a pair of wine glasses. She didn't care how long he had been listening at the door, waiting for the right time to bring them in; she was just happy he had picked the best moment possible.

"Now, if you don't mind, I've had enough Italian altogether," She heard Jack remark as he lifted the record and stooped to study her collection. "How about Eva Taylor?"

"Are you familiar with her music, Jack?" Phryne felt a smile play at her mouth, "I didn't think you listened to jazz." He started the album and turned to face her.

"I'm not completely out of touch with popular culture, Phryne." At that, he dropped his eyes and seemed fascinated with the glasses Mr. Butler brought in, but Miss Fisher didn't break her gaze. Instead, she allowed herself to take in this honest image of Jack.

Standing, she handed him the wine and bottle opener, flashing him a coy smile. "I've always preferred French wine to the Italian, or German variety."

* * *

Notes: I've written about four versions of this last chapter and almost didn't post any of them, but since I forgot to mark it as complete and people began following after chapter two, I wanted to wrap it up a little more succinctly. I hope it fits well with the other chapters, and I didn't just muck it all up. Regardless, I'm not a writer by any means, and this was my first fanfic, so I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thank you guys for the reviews and follows so far! They really do make a difference.


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